


Not Like a Swan

by megumijaya



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-03-09
Updated: 2014-03-09
Packaged: 2018-01-15 03:02:09
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,030
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1288750
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/megumijaya/pseuds/megumijaya
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sansa watches a mysterious beauty speak to her Sworn Shield and feels a little jealous.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Not Like a Swan

**Author's Note:**

> Just a small one-shot for my first time on this site, please leave any comments if you find any mistakes, Thanks!

_Who was this woman?_ Sansa watched from her window, a woman with fierce steel eyes and ebony hair engaged in a conversation with Sansa’s Sworn Shield. The women’s airy laughter filled Winterfell’s courtyard and entranced all of the sparring men of the castle. Sansa could just barely see her Sworn Shield’s, Sandor Clegane, face but in it she saw his signature scowl. The scowl now made for playfulness, a scowl that has changed from annoyance to delight at the Quiet Isle along with his pseudonym, The Hound.  

It should not have upset her, but it did. A woman like this hasn’t ever approached Sandor ever since he came to the Eyrie and carried her off in the night. He swore himself to her that same night after impaling Petyr Baelish with his sword. The grey-eyed woman looked of the North and wore her hair in a Northern style but her dress was a lovely Southern daffodil color. The dress was cut modestly and shaped perfectly to its mistress’ frame, defining the art in women. She was not as tall as Sansa, who was now only reaching her ferocious Sworn Shield’s lips, but an average size for a lady.

 _A Lady, that who she is but of where?_ Sansa could spot a lady a fortnight’s away by her posture, the way her chin was held high sprouting pleasantries through pursed flushed lips. _Oh how lovely, she is smiling now._ Sansa felt engulfed with jealousy as the woman lifted her manicured hand over Sandor's arm. It looked as an attempt to feel the large biceps that would take both of Sansa’s hands to cover. Sansa watched probably the most peculiar thing Sandor has ever done to anyone but her, he smiled…at that woman.

Sansa had decided then to make her presence known, to greet this foreign lady. The stonewalls of Winterfell were kept warm from underground springs and Sansa felt grateful for that as she brushed her hands across them making her way outside. She passed quite a few nameless but familiar faces in the halls and even heard the throaty laughter of some of her banner man dining in the Great Hall. Her way towards the large main doors took a lot less time then she would have thought but knowing her anxiousness her feet must have been the cause of the haste. Abruptly she stopped to look over herself and patted her dress down, removing any crinkles. Proud of the elegant embroider on the violet dress; Sansa felt a tiny boost of confidence. She didn’t bother to check her hair knowing the intricate braids were still holding together. Sansa walked into the line of view of her Sworn Shield and mysterious woman. Sandor’s eyes immediately found hers and nodded an acknowledgment.

“Little bird, I have someone I want you to meet.” Sansa finally reached the two and was able to see the woman up close. The woman’s body was even more feminine then Sansa could ever wish to have. Her face was an olive tone heart shape that complimented the raven hair that flowed down her shoulders.

Sansa suddenly felt small, unusual to her greater stature. The Queen of the North felt like a little bird in the presence of this sensual swan. A towering aura that confronted everything Sansa was. She felt unneeded; that maybe this graceful swan could replace her, could be something special to Sandor.

Then Sandor spoke again and Sansa tore her eyes away from the woman, “This is Lady Lithia Clegane, my niece.” He rubbed his hand over her head in matter as if she were a child and not a stunning dark beauty.

“Barely a lady, born from one of Gregor’s dead wives and now paramour to some sad excuse for a lord. It is an honor to meet you, your Grace.” Sansa was astounded. The woman did speak in a similarity to Sandor, with blunt honesty.

“Yes…yes it is also lovely to be acquainted with another member of Sandor’s family. You are very much welcomed to Winterfell.” Sansa felt a flushed with embarrassment. _Jealous…of a family member!_ She felt ridiculous but relieved that only she knew of her carelessness. “Might I give you a tour if Sandor hadn’t already offer?”

“Oh, you do not have to. I am sure you are much busy as the Winter Queen.” Lady Lithia shook her head somewhat violently.

“Nonsense, the North can wait, my Sworn Shield has done many things for me why not return them in as many was that I can.” Sansa looked up at Sandor and smiled at his scared visage.

“Bugger that, little bird, you have done many things for me.” He reached for hand and kissed her palm.

“Well might be I wish to make friends with her, Sandor.” They were now speaking as if they weren’t in a public place with plenty of on lookers. Lady Lithia stood silent watching her uncle act in a way she hadn’t ever seen. It has been years since the two relatives had meet, albeit since she was well ten and one. She grew up in Clegane Keep, fearful of her father who never visited and longingly for the mother who he beaten to death. Her uncle Sandor though harsh and cruel most of times treated her kindly, though she guesses it was because he pitied her. She wanted to see him, urged her lord for visit to the North to be reacquainted with him. So she came unannounced and approached him as he was training with some Northern knights.

“I would also like that, and then maybe you could tell me of all the _many things_ my uncle has done for you, your Grace.” It took a moment for the two to stop openly admiring each other when they did Sansa was the first to look at Lady Lithia and smile broadly.

“Of course you would! Sandor is my gallant non-Knight.” Sansa looped arms with Sandor, as he scoffed at her. _Brilliant, just a niece,_ Sansa thought. “Now, what part of the South are you from?” Sansa began to lead the two Cleganes inside Winterfell; ecstatic Sandor was still only hers.

 


End file.
